“You are welcome,” she assured him. “Pray proceed.”
They exchanged the glances of duelists. Her plain black frock was buttoned up to her throat. Her colourless face seemed set in exact and expressionless lines. Her eyes were like windows of glass. He felt only their scrutiny; nothing of the reason for it, or of the thoughts which stirred behind in her brain. There was nothing about her attitude which seemed in any way threatening, yet he had the feeling that in this interview it was she who possessed the upper hand.
“You are a foolish person,” she said calmly. “You are so foolish that you are not, in all probability, in the slightest degree dangerous. Believe me, ours is an unequal duel. There is a bell upon this table which has apparently escaped your notice. I sit with my finger upon the button—so. I have only to press it, and the servants will be here. I do not wish to press it. I do not desire that you should be, as you certainly would be, banished from this house.”
He was immensely puzzled. She had not resented his strange intrusion. She had accepted it, indeed, with curious equanimity. Her forefinger lingered still over the little ivory knob of the bell attached to her desk. He shrugged his shoulders.
“You have the advantage of me,” he admitted, a little curtly. “All the same, I think I could possess myself of those sheets of paper, you know, before the bell was answered.”
“Would it be wise, I wonder, then, to ensure their safety?” she asked coolly.
Her finger pressed the bell. He took a quick step forward. She held out her hand.
“Stop!” she ordered. “These sheets will tell you nothing which you do not know already unless you are a fool. Never mind the bell. That is my affair. I am sending you away.”
He leaned a little towards her.
“It wouldn’t be possible to bribe you, I suppose?”